


The Winchester Rules to One-Night Stands

by nagapdragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 19:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2479202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagapdragon/pseuds/nagapdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are rules they break and rules they don't. <br/>But then again, Sam's never played well with the rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Winchester Rules to One-Night Stands

**_Rule #1:_ **

_Keep a list of towns, bars, and names, no matter how drunk you get. Nothing’s more awkward than trying to pick up a barfly in a tiny town that you ditched without a word eighteen months ago. Ends in either a swift kick in the balls or an overly clingy one-or-two-night-stand who thinks they’re your true love because you wander back into their life._

 

It’s an easy hunt, a haunted house with a couple of spirits that aren’t angry enough for real power. Best of all, it’s a clean in-and-out, nothing illegal for anybody to be asking questions about- well, nothing except the fake IDs, but they do have very good fakes- which means they get to have a little fun. Dean stops in the first actual city they find, as satisfies the four-page contract they both signed defining the term, and they go their separate ways for the night. 

Dean’s looking for a hole-in-the-wall bar, preferably one with some live music, where he can pretend that he isn’t going to have a few beers and call Cas to him. Easy fun, maybe some karaoke if he gets drunk enough, and not too far from their room so he can go check on the Impala if he gets worried. 

Sam’s looking for something a little less… wholesome. 

 

**_Rule #2:_ **

****_Choose places where nobody will remark on you and don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself. If anyone comes asking, nobody will have noticed you enough to track you down. Be charming, but be forgettable. Remember, your ego is nothing compared to the sanctity of the work and people’s lives depend on you._

 

The thrum of the bass greets him the moment he steps through the double doors, fighting his way to the bar for his first drink. It’s a crowded night and he moves with the beat, swaying through the crowd to shout at a bartender in a dark v-neck with a really, _really_ deep vee. He gets his drink with a minimum of backtalk, which isn’t really surprising in a place like this, and downs it almost immediately. He’s here to have a good time, to forget the disasters he sees on a weekly basis and the impending Apocalypse and the stress of the charged tension between Cas and Dean. Sexually charged, not that either one of them could get their heads out of their asses long enough to realize it. 

The song shifts and Sam tosses his glass back on the bar with a tip and a wink to the bartender than _might_ get him faster and less snarky service later on. He’s a little bit noticeable with the height and all. Doesn’t exactly make him forgettable, which is a problem in their work but a really great thing in a club like this. There are already eyes tracking him across the floor as he joins the dance floor, some from other people in the writhing mass of flesh and some from the cool eyes watching in booths.

Hands slip across his back and chest as people slide through the dance, the occasional passerby bold enough- or drunk enough- to slap his ass or trail a hand down the hard muscles of his abdomen. He brushes up against other dancers as the throng shifts and moves, staying in that sweet spot close enough to feel the rumble of the music in his chest yet far enough that he can hear the pants of the dancers around him, the sweet symphony of 100% bona fide _human_. 

Well, mostly human. Place like this is bound to be a haunt for some monsters, but any of them who pose a serious threat will have seen him and known enough to clear the hell out. 

He dances and he gets a few drinks, pausing only long enough for a quick snack because he wants that pleasant dulling of his rational mind, not to be outright drunk. He waits for someone bold enough to demand his attention, not to wait for a flirty wink and all of the signals of mutual interest. He doesn’t want to be seducer and seduced all at once. He wants to forget and he wants to let go of all the responsibility, of the world on his shoulders and the Apocalypse he started. He wants to be _taken_. 

 

**_Rule #3:_ **

_Never give your real name or the alias you’re using with the police. Plausible deniability is the name of the game and you can’t have some one-night-stand screwing up your case, getting themselves killed chasing you, or worse, getting you arrested. Your anonymity is your greatest asset and no quick fuck is worth sacrificing that._

 

A pair of hands take him by the waist, sliding down his sides until his new partner’s thumbs notch into the bony jut of his hip on either side. Fingers tighten against his hips as if trying to mold the skintight leather even tighter to him, a possessive gesture ameliorated by stroking his thumbs along his hipbone. 

“Body like yours is meant to be worshipped,” his partner whispers in his ear, delivering a quick nip to his earlobe to punctuate the sentiment. Sam continues to move, no longer moving through the crowd freely but anchored by the hands on his hips. He moves slower now, a viscous slide of motion in a continuous ripple from head to toe, a tease for one person and one person alone. 

“And are you offering to… pray?”

A quiet laugh rumbles behind him, one he feels in the breath against the back of his neck more than hears over the pound of the music. The hands pull him back, flush against his partner’s body, and he drops a few bites along the edge of Sam’s throat before licking the spot behind his ear that never fails to drive him wild. 

“I’m more of the debauching type.”

“You have a name, my would-be debaucher?”

“Nick,” he says, managing to make the one word sound incredibly sultry. “Am I to call you Tall, Dark, and Handsome or do you have a name of your own?”

“Sam,” he groans as Nick rolls his hips, keeping Sam tight against him. 

 

**_Rule #4:_ **

_Make the lies big. Astronaut, movie star, the other non-Australian Crocodile Hunter- it doesn’t matter. Make it ridiculous and make it utterly unbelievable because they don’t ask questions if they know you’re lying. The best way to cover up a fake life is with an even bigger, even faker life._

 

Sam breaks away from Nick, just out of arm’s reach, and makes a show of getting back into the music. There’s a little circle of emptiness around them, space afforded by what must be a truly spectacular display of possessiveness behind him. He can feel the _go away, mine, don’t touch, mine and mine and mine_ in the way the crowd pretends not to be looking and how long Nick goes before closing the distance between them again. 

He slips his hand under Sam’s shirt this time, one hand returning to his hip and tracing the seam between his pants and the skin bared there, humming appreciatively at the muscle he finds there. 

“Who did you have to kill for a body like this?”

“More like who did I save.”

“And who is that?”

“Everybody, a time or two,” he breathes, tipping his face skyward and breathing in the scent of freedom, of alcohol and the fruity mixed drinks and sweat. They aren’t impressive, but it’s all the things that he saves on a regular basis. There’s the mixed scent of cologne and perfume, scents mingling until no longer recognizable individually and clinging to his clothes with cigarette smoke and the heady scent of arousal. 

He’s no longer entirely sure how much of that is just the human element clinging to the club, to the writhing throng of humanity, and how much is the two of them. His cock is pressed against his zip painfully tight and he’s sure it’s clearly delineated for anyone who cares to look because these pants were tight to begin with but he’s not complaining with how they make his ass look. Nick’s free hand, the one that isn’t anchored on Sam’s hip, his single stable point while the club shifts around them. 

“Ready to find somewhere a little more private?”

“I was ready the moment you put your hands on my hips.”

Nick leans in close, his whisper barely audible over the din. “Good.”

 

**_Rule #5:_ **

****_Never use your own motel room. Even if there’s no chance of an awkward interruption by your brother, your motel room is your base of operations and much remain secure. Do not raise questions by letting them anywhere near the arsenal, your research, or anything that might give your mission away._

Nick has a room in the swankiest hotel this place has to offer, penthouse suite. He doesn’t know much about what the inside looks like- he’s guessing classically elegant furniture in rich materials, nice appliances, and a frankly divine shower- but it has floor to ceiling windows, the glass chilled by night’s embrace. 

Sam knows that very well. 

“Sam,” Nick sighs, “oh, Sam, I may very well never let you go again. You’re so beautiful like this, a fucking masterpiece, I’d love to have a Michelangelo of you to hang on my wall where I could see you when I wake up each morning.”

Sam rolls back against Nick’s body, pressing his forearms against the windowpane to get even a millimeter closer to him. The contrast of chilly glass to warm skin keeps his mind trapped in that place where he can’t think, just feel, and it’s intoxicating. 

“And you like this, don’t you? You danced so prettily for me in the club, they were all watching you. All _wanted_ you. But they can’t have you, can they? Because you’re mine.”

Sam doesn’t answer, doesn’t trust his words, just moans and grinds back against Nick’s erection. Nick swears and flattens Sam against the glass, pressing him hard against it and teasing a hand down between his legs to play with the soft skin behind his balls, gentle touches completely at odds with the rough grind against his ass. 

“Tell me what you want, Sam. How you want me to take you. Rough or gentle, quick and hard against the window or achingly slow in those silk sheets? I could hold you on the brink for ages, fucking you with my fingers until you’re crying for more. How do you want it, Sam?” Nick’s filthy whispers are just as hushed in his ear now in the big open space as they were in the crowded confines of the club. It adds to that little thrill, the hush of it all, and Sam shudders. 

“Bed. Take me to bed, Nick.”

 

**_Rule #6:_ **

****_Check and double check. Wear a silver ring, offer them a drink of holy water, keep yourself armed and keep yourself ready for all predatory species of monster. No matter what, if they don’t seem 100% human to you, get the hell out while you’re still safe and make plans to dispose of them._

 

Sam arches against the silk sheets as best he can without releasing the bars on the headboard, crying out as Nick finally stops his teasing and _takes_. It’s too much and yet he’s been waiting forever and he drops his head to the mattress. His breath comes hard and fast as Nick fucks in long, languid strokes. He grips so tight that Sam knows he’ll have ten round bruises come morning and he would be absolutely _ecstatic_ if he could put two strings of thought together. 

“Please!” he begs, trying to get a little leverage to take but Nick isn’t giving it to him and he knows that’s exactly what he wanted but it’s that much sweeter if he fights for it a little, if after all this time of fighting and fighting he just lets himself lose and the consequences are so sweet. 

“Ought to be glad I’m indulgent,” Nick says, snapping his hips up. 

“Of course,” he hisses between his teeth, fighting for a better retort. “Harder, Nick, _harder_.”

Nick reaches around to pull at Sam’s cock, keeping the same even rhythm as his thrusts until Sam doesn’t know whether he wants to thrust back onto Nick’s cock or forwards into his hand and he’s coming hard, his body tensing and Nick moaning in his ear, sensual and wanting as he follows him over the edge. 

It’s a short moment before he pulls out, taking Sam’s hands from the headboard finger by finger and rubbing the ache from them. Nick flops down on the bed by his side, the intricately tattooed wings tattooed on his back stretching as he drapes an arm over Sam’s back. Ghostly feathers tickle over him like a blanket, covering him in the prickle of magic from shoulders to hips. 

 

**_Rule #7:_ **

_Do not sleep there. Have your fun and make excuses or wait until they fall asleep and leave then. Even if they’re human, it doesn’t mean you’re safe, and regular people don’t understand the precautions of salt lines and wards and devil’s traps. Always get yourself back to the safety of your motel room and full supernatural precautions._

 

He dozes, woken every once in a while by a horny archangel. Lucifer takes him against the window like he promised, hard and quick and dirty while he whispers dark promises in Enochian. Sam rides him, eyes locked with Lucifer’s pale ones and the ghost of his wings wrapped around Sam’s shoulders, the frosty touch of his grace. And when he’s completely fucked-out, Lucifer bundles him into the bathtub and redefines ‘achingly slow’. 

“Mine,” he whispers. “I can make it so much better, Sam. So much more.”

“Not yet,” Sam replies, head lolling against his archangel’s shoulder as he tucks him back in bed. “It’s not Detroit yet.”

“Someday,” Lucifer murmurs, sliding in next to him. “Sleep, Sam Winchester. Angels are watching over you.”

“Stop. ’S creepy when you say it like that.”

 

**_Rule #8:_ **

_And above all, don’t get attached, because you’re a hunter and this business is hard on anyone you love. The only people you can trust are each other, you remember that, and only because each of you can take care of yourselves._

 

He drifts to sleep under the caress of cold feathers, Lucifer’s hand in his hair and a lullaby on his lips, and when he wakes it’s to cold sheets, a steaming cup of coffee, and a new addition to his list in Lucifer’s elaborate script. 

 

_San Antonio, Texas_

_See you in Detroit, love._

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this- feel free to come chat at my Tumblr: nagapdragon.tumblr.com. Hope you enjoyed!


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